


a merry little christmas

by impeachring



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impeachring/pseuds/impeachring
Summary: Josh Lyman has always hated Christmas music.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to jenny for beta reading and coming up with the best outlines known to man.

Josh Lyman has always hated Christmas music. As a kid, it was just another reminder of how different he was from the other inhabitants of the WASPy Connecticut suburbs. He was always uncomfortable with the way he stuck out like a sore thumb during the holiday season, when he was lighting the candles on his menorah while his friends lit up their Christmas trees. As an adult, Christmas music only served to remind him that everyone else got a break during the holidays while he continued to work his ass off. And after Rosslyn, well, Josh took to avoiding Christmas music whenever possible. His coworkers during Bartlet’s administration understood this and made christmas time in the white house a relatively quiet experience. Eventually the horrific flashbacks that accompanied the holiday season faded back into a general annoyance, and by the time Santos was elected Josh had almost forgotten about that particular trigger. Almost.

One snowy December day in President Santos’ second year, Josh woke up filled with anxiety and a vague sense of wrongness. The exact meaning behind this eluded him, but Josh knew it was sure to be a difficult day at the office. By the time Josh got past security and into the White House, he was already on edge. The festive decorations and cheerful music coming from Lou’s desk only served to make matters worse. He stomped into his office, willfully ignoring the festivities going on around him. But as the day went on, he could feel his anxiety and irritation swell. Lou’s radio began to grate unbearably on his nerves. 

“Lou!” he shouted, storming into her office. 

“What's up, Josh?” 

“Can you please, for the love of God, turn that damn thing off?!” 

“Oh come on, don't be such a downer. You know, I’m Jewish too, and I can still enjoy the occasional Christmas song,” Lou responded, cranking the radio up louder.

“It's not that I'm- oh just fucking turn it off!” Josh slammed the door and walked back to his office, glowering at all who passed him. Sam stood off to the side, watching with concern in his eyes. Josh’s unexplainable bad mood bore a striking resemblance to the incident that had gotten him diagnosed with PTSD many years earlier. If Josh was having another episode, that would spell trouble not only for him but for the Santos administration. Sam started to walk to Josh’s office and ask how he was feeling, but decided against it. His friend was notoriously closed off when it came to his emotional state, and would be more willing to listen to Donna lecture him about his mental health than Sam.   
Meanwhile, Josh paced around the office he still couldn't help but think of as Leo’s. The sound of sirens was beginning to fill his head, proving to be quite a distraction from his work. The idea of losing control and snapping at President Santos the way he did with President Bartlet in years past filled him with a sense of dread and panic, but so did admitting to his friends that he was struggling again. What he really wanted to do was go home and sleep until his head was quiet again, but taking a rest was clearly not an option in his line of work. So Josh resolved to keep quiet and try to control his emotions for as long as possible. He sat back down and attempted to get started on work, but not before double-checking that Dr. Stanley Keyworth’s number was still saved on his phone, just in case. 

Josh soon came to realize that despite his Ivy League degrees and years of political experience, his foresight was either severely lacking or seriously impaired by his mental state. He decided to go with the latter explanation, for pride’s sake. The plan to ignore his growing anxiety was, rather predictably, a miserable failure. Josh could feel his coworkers growing more and more exasperated throughout the day, but he couldn't help how everything they said or did reminded him of that night at Rosslyn. He could only hope that Sam and Donna hadn't noticed, and try to convince himself that everything would be okay once he got home. Suddenly, Josh heard a knock at the door. Donna walked in without waiting for a response, looking as beautiful and put-together as ever. 

“Hey honey, the First Lady wants a copy of the updated headcount for the gun control vote tonight,” Donna said without looking up from her phone.

“Um. Yeah. Ok. Ask Sam, I think” Shit. That definitely didn't sound coherent. Donna looked at him suspiciously.

“Are you alright?” She inquired.

“Yes?”

“Was that a question?”

“Uh, nope. I'm fine. Seriously, don't worry about me. You can get the files from Sam; he should still be in his office,” Josh muttered. His heart was pounding so loudly Donna could probably hear it from across the room. 

“Okay…” she responded. “But let me know if you need anything” She walked out the door, shooting one last glance back at him. Josh sighed and tried to focus on reading the briefing packet in front of him. Through the door he heard Bram calling him in for the president’s next briefing. Josh stepped into the Oval Office shakily. Sam, Lou, and President Santos were already there. 

“Good afternoon, Josh.” The president said. “Fill me in on what's happening in Qumar.”

“Yes sir.”

Josh ran through his notes on the latest foreign policy crisis with almost no attention paid to what he was actually saying. All he could focus on was getting out of the Oval Office without blowing up at the president or revealing his mental instability. When Josh’s briefing was finished, Santos glanced at Sam expectantly.

“So how are we looking on that gun control bill? Still set to pass without a fight?” Sam looked down sheepishly and fiddled with his papers.

“Well, not exactly, sir.”

“No? What happened?” The president inquired. 

Sam looked up. “Donna and I looked over the headcount again earlier; it seems like we've lost Ferguson, White, and Barnes. From what we can tell, the bill is just barely going to fail.”

“That's too bad,” Santos muttered. “But good work everyone, we'll get it next time.”

Josh felt his face heat up, as the ringing in his ears grew louder. How could the president be so blasé about this? Wasn't improving gun control one of the major goals for this administration? 

It wasn't until Josh noticed everyone in the room staring at him that he realized he had said all of this out loud. And judging by their faces, he had been shouting too.

“Oh god, not again,” he whispered, burying his face in his hands. Sam wordlessly grabbed Josh by the arm and pulled him into the chief of staff office.

“Stay here, I’m getting Donna” Sam ordered, leading Josh to his chair.

“Sam no, please don't-” Josh’s objections seemed to fall on deaf ears. Sam had already marched out of the room, leaving Josh alone with his too-big office and the sounds of sirens still ringing in his ears.

After what felt like hours of sitting alone at his desk, Josh heard the door to the Oval Office open and the president step into the room. Josh had the distinct feeling that this next conversation was going to be painful. 

“Sir, I want to apologize for my behavior in there. I’ve been having a bad day but it was wholly unprofessional to take that out on you. It won’t happen again, I promise,” he said hurriedly.

“That’s quite alright, Josh. But if you feel that this position is placing too much stress on you, arrangements can be made. The last thing any of us would want is to jeopardize your health of the quality of your work by overloading you with responsibilities. After all, look what happened to the last person to hold your position,” the president responded in a kind tone that made Josh feel sick to his stomach. Shock rendered him speechless as he stared at Santos. The president seeing him as incompetent was mortifying, but so was the thought of divulging his diagnosis. Santos waited expectantly for a response. 

“Oh no, I don’t think that will be necessary, sir.”

“Of course not, Josh.” President Santos smiled at him sadly. Before Josh could respond he heard a knock at the door and Sam entered with Donna. He felt his cheeks turn red at the concerned look on her face. 

“I’m sorry, are we interrupting something?” Donna asked, looking worried. The president motioned for her and Sam to sit.

“Oh not at all, Donna.”

“Sir, would you mind if I spoke to Josh in private?” President Santos nodded at Donna, smiling warmly. He gave Josh a friendly squeeze on the arm and stepped back into his office. As soon as the president was out of the room, Josh sighed and buried his head in his hands. Donna planted a kiss on her boyfriend’s forehead and waited for him to speak.

“Well that was… humiliating,” Josh muttered. Donna sighed, stroking his hair. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. President Santos is a good man and a good friend. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Josh looked up at her with tears welling in his eyes. He was beginning to realize that he will never be able to show his face in the Oval Office for at least the rest of this administration. His girlfriend, despite her good intentions, could never understand what it was like to have his job. The chief of staff was supposed to be someone the president could count on to be a trusted advisor and the voice of reason in a room full of sycophants. How could Josh live up to this job description if President Santos himself didn’t think he could handle it? Most people who found out about Josh’s PTSD diagnosis treated him as if he was something to be pitied and protected. If the president was going to start walking on eggshells around Josh, he might as well just quit now. Donna must have been able to tell where his thoughts were wandering.

“You’re not unfit for the job, Josh. You’re exactly as qualified as you’ve always been. And you know what, all of your friends are going to be right behind you helping you get through this. Sam and I, we’ve seen this happen to you before. We know what to do. And I’ve still got Stanley Keyworth’s number on me somewhere if you need to talk to him. You won’t be alone this time, Josh. And you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because a man was walking down the street when he fell into a hole.” Josh starts to cry in earnest then, shoulders shaking with the weight of his grief and embarrassment.

“Leo would be so proud of you, Josh. He loved you so much.”

“I wish he was here,” Josh mutters through his tears. Donna just held him tightly as if she could keep him from falling apart. 

“Me too,” she whispered against his hair. As Josh stood curled into his girlfriend’s arms, he heard Lou’s radio switch on again from across the hall.


End file.
